Tekster: Gordon Lightfoot. Affair on 8th Avenue.
The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after she'd gone
I remember it well
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
Her long flowing hair came softly undone
And it lay all around
And she brushed it down as I stood by her side
In the warmth of her love
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And we played a game only she could win
And she told me a riddle I'll never forget
Then left with the answer I've never found yet
"How long", said she, "Can a moment like this
Belong to someone?"
"What's wrong, what is right, when to live or to die
We must almost be born"
So if you should ask me what secrets I hide
I'm only your lover, don't make me decide
The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after she'd gone
I remember it well
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And we played a game only she could win
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after she'd gone
I remember it well
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
Her long flowing hair came softly undone
And it lay all around
And she brushed it down as I stood by her side
In the warmth of her love
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And we played a game only she could win
And she told me a riddle I'll never forget
Then left with the answer I've never found yet
"How long", said she, "Can a moment like this
Belong to someone?"
"What's wrong, what is right, when to live or to die
We must almost be born"
So if you should ask me what secrets I hide
I'm only your lover, don't make me decide
The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after she'd gone
I remember it well
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And we played a game only she could win
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
Gordon Lightfoot
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